When You Wish Upon A Star
by unostalgic
Summary: Ever since outgrowing childhood and the times of wonder, joy and fun, thirty-six year old Jamie Bennett has been leading an otherwise uneventful life. Married, living in a town without snow, with teenage children who don't have time for the Tooth Fairy or Santa, it's been years since he's seen snow – or the one who puts the fun in it - but it doesn't stop him from wishing for them.
1. Grayscale (Part One)

**WHEN YOU WISH UPON A STAR**

Grayscale (Part One)

Ever since outgrowing childhood and the times of wonder, joy and fun, thirty-six year old Jamie Bennett has been leading an otherwise uneventful life. Married, living in a town without snow, working all year round, with two teenage children who don't have time for the Tooth Fairy or Santa anymore, it's been years since he's seen snow – or the one who puts the fun in it.

It's only because he moved from his chilly hometown, Burgess, to the warm, sunny coast of Australia for a job that doesn't see it every winter season. But, Jamie Bennett is a family man – if he needs to support them, he puts them first, no matter what, even if it means putting everything he believes in on hold.

The only sparks of color of his gray-scale adulthood were the times his children began to believe too.

The first time his daughter ever lost a tooth, he remembers reading her a bedtime story, falling asleep in her room, then being woken by an excited little girl bouncing up and down on the bed with a dollar the Tooth Fairy left for her. The first time his son ever had a nightmare, he woke up terrified, and then suddenly fell back asleep with a smile on his face – Jamie knew it was the work of a little gold man with a heart of the same value. Their first Christmas together, Jamie hadn't needed to dress up like Santa Claus to put presents under the tree because he knew North would come for them – and indeed he did. And at Easter, Bunnymund had done his job bloody well to make his children's first Easter egg hunt memorable, as well as every one after that.

So, although mostly uneventful, his life isn't at all bad – it has its moments, he has people to share it with. He has a lovely wife, two nice-enough kids, a job that pays well even if it bores him, and a beach-side view to wake up to. Living in Australia isn't all too bad either – the weather's a bit strange and everybody has an accent like Bunnymund and uses words like 'crikey' and 'ankle-biter', but his family is happy. So he is too.

Mostly.

Because there's one guardian he hasn't yet seen, and might not see ever again.

The white haired boy, no more than seventeen or eighteen, with skin pale and eyes clear as glass who made it snow in his bedroom all those years ago. The one who took him on a crazy sleigh ride through town, and knocked out his front tooth – the one who made him believe, saving his wonder and restoring his faith.

He doesn't know if he'll ever see Jack Frost again.

With another winter passed after many winters gone, there's been no sign of him. Spring has approached, but it doesn't stop Jamie Bennett from wishing for the frosty, snow-less winter wind to blow back and bring his favorite guardian with it.

Every cold winter morning, he wakes up before his wife and peeps out the window first thing, to see if there is a sign of snowfall. There's always none, but his hope is yet to be crushed – thirty six years old and still going strong.

Still, an emptiness fills him when, on particularly frigid mornings, he flings the curtains open, expecting a white powder to have settled over his front lawn in the night, but he sees none.

The first morning of spring comes no different – opens the curtains, expects snow, sees none, then goes to greet his family in the kitchen.

"Good morning, all!"

He's greeted with a disgruntled reply from his son and silence from his daughter. Jamie sighs – he's certain_ he_ was no more mature as a teenager than he was as a child. His mindset back then, as his parents had described, 'evolved surely albeit slowly' – he had been the steadiest in 'growing up' out of all his friends, and by the time they were already into big toys like cars, he was still in awe of the giant Christmas toy displays they would put up in the mall every December. Part of him wished that when the time came, his own children would grow as timelessly as he had, but now he realizes that was all just wishful thinking – still is.

He halfheartedly drops down into a seat at the table, on the right of his thirteen year old son with console in hand. Mike is the type to be enthralled, as he himself had been in youth, but it's usually only by the newest video game or tech gadget.

"What are you playing there, Mike?"

His son looks up from his game to his father slowly, raises his eyebrows and goes back to blasting aliens with plasma guns without a word. Sighing, Jamie turns to his sixteen year old daughter, Alice, a pretty girl resembling her mother, but hardly as sweet. Her father can't begin to imagine how someone looking so sweet could have such a sour personality, or why her phone seems to be surgically attached to her hand at all hours of the day.

"Are you on the Internet there, Alice?"

She responds by wordlessly bobbing her head to the music blasting from her headphones, unable to hear him.

"Alice!"

Finally, she stares up at him begrudgingly, sliding the headphones off.

"What?"

"Would you check the weather for me? It's meant to drop below ten degrees in the next few weeks which means—"

"—which means it might be cold enough to snow, yeah. I know, I had the answer ten years ago."

Alice returns to her phone screen, slides her headphones back on, but not without rolling his eyes first.

"Well, is it going to snow this week?" Jamie tries weakly. This time, Mike eyes his father with a sideways stare.

"Dad, we live on the coast. In Australia. There won't be any snow, because there is no snow, any day of the year," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah, Dad, it's seriously never going to snow here. We practically live next to the beach, it's too hot anyway, it'd melt. Sixteen years here, you should know." Alice interjects loudly.

"You know, it is nearly Christmas season. Back home, it snows for days and days." Jamie says grinning.

Both the children groan as they dig into their cereal.

"What?"

"You've told us every story about Burgess, like, a billion times. Especially the snow ones." Alice says, rolling her eyes and shoveling a spoonful into her mouth.

His wife thankfully enters the room before they can begin another rally against Dad and his precious snow. She leans down and plants a kiss on his cheek before making coffee for herself.

"Don't roll your eyes at your father, he's just trying to enlighten you to something you've never seen before," his wife interrupts gently, placing her hands on her hips, "don't you want to see the snow, Alice?"

Alice shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly.

"It's just frozen ice. Falling from the sky. Whoopee."

Jamie lets his spoon clatter loudly into the bowl. All three family members turn to stare at him.

"Alice, it's more than that, so much more." He starts – he can feel a long, inspirational spiel that his children and wife probably don't want to hear coming on - but he thinks back to a moment, so many years ago: a white haired boy, sudden snow, and the cold in the room nipping at his nose.

"It's joy, it represents joy and it brings you joy. It brings your friends and loved ones closer, and it's laughter and happiness and fun."

Happiness that has not been seen for over ten years, not since he was eighteen and no longer considered a child. His light on the globe went out, faded away. But the light in him continues to shine brightly forward. He still believes, a thirty-six year old man, in Jack Frost. He believes in all of them, all the Guardians, because they are within him.

"That's…kind of lame, Dad."

"Totally lame. I'm never going to get your weird obsession with snow."

And his momentary wonderment comes crashing down. Jamie sighs and rubs his temples.

"Honestly, you two, you act like you know so much, yet you're so young…" he begins, and is met with groaning again.

"Here we go again," Alice rolls her eyes.

"Again with the aging too fast thing, Dad, give it a rest for a bit, would you? We gotta get to school anyway." Mike says, patting his father on the back and rather hesitantly as he swings his knapsack over his shoulder.

They leave without another word, and Jamie just slouches down into his chair, silently gnawing at his cereal. His wife's glance on him lingers a little too long over her coffee mug.

"It's technically not an obsession, is it, Clara?" Jamie asks weakly. She smiles kindly and takes a sip of her drink.

"I suppose not. But you do like snow an awful lot."

Jamie grins broadly, "It's not a bad thing."

"No, it's not, but when you're more excited about a little bit of ice falling from the sky – and don't give me a speech about that later – than your children, it is a bit…strange."

"It's not just about the snow. It's what it means to me."

"I know, honey, but just don't go overboard with it, okay?" It is spring, and we did get through the whole of winter without snow."

"The first few weeks of spring are actually as cold as, if not colder, than an average day in winter." He tries again, but by this point Clara has already decided to obligingly agree, so she won't have to deal with his issue again later.

"If you say so, dear."

* * *

September means the passing of winter, and it also means another year of waiting for Jack Frost to come back, which he knows he never does. But every day after work, when it's dark and cold, he'll take the scenic route home – walking alone through the town square, like he used to wander around Burgess as a child. The town statue reminds him of the one back home that Jack had once accidentally sled him into to knock his tooth out. It's a memory that always makes him smile.

"Where are you, Jack…" he murmurs to himself. As if on cue, the moon reappears from behind some clouds. Jamie stares up at it, huffs – that's not what he was looking for – and continues his journey home.

* * *

Later that night, Jamie leans against the door frame of Mike's room to see his son playing another of those first person shooter games teenage boys like so much.

"Mike, time for bed."

Mike grunts softly, and Jamie obligingly takes it as an answer, leaving the room. It's never been clear to him at what level of relationship he stands with his son – sometimes it's really good and they're best friends, and occasionally, he's completely ignored when Mike's having school or girl trouble. But generally, he'll come through for his old man.

"Hey, Dad?" Jamie suddenly hears from Mike, and returns to see his son has already switched the game off.

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say, uh, I'm…sorry that we got all weird at breakfast."

"It's okay."

"But can you just tell me, once and for all, why you like the snow so much?"

"Do you really want to hear that?"

"Well, yeah," Mike scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, "and don't say that it's because it's joy and fun and stuff. I know it's more than that."

Jamie just smiles, leaning against the door frame.

"Well, that is a long story, son. And if I told you, I don't think you'd believe me, anyhow."

Mike looks at him long and hard, and folding his arms over his torso, says, "Try me."

So they sit on his bed, and Jamie recounts the entire story of the Guardians – the first snow day, the sleigh ride with an invisible winter spirit, when Santa, the Tooth Fairy, Sandman and the Easter Bunny appeared in his room and he saw them for the first time, and having his faith restored by Jack Frost. And of course, he and his friends saving the Guardians – they had been worth protecting.

As he finishes, Mike is already in bed, only barely awake, but he has a smile on his face.

"You have weird stories…Dad…I know they're not true…but I guess…they're still…kind of cool…"

And he drifts off to sleep. Jamie smiles sadly to himself, sliding off Mike's bed. He never had really taken the time to realize what a big boy his son had become - the cartoon posters on the walls have been replaced by ones of his favorite bands, the little action figures scattered on his desk now game consoles and gadgets.

But the rabbit is still there, the little stuffed rabbit he had as a child. It's old and frayed with fluff sprouting out of the seam in its back, but it's still so special to Jamie. His kids just don't know it – the toy is just sitting innocently in Mike's room, neglected.

_"Hey, old friend," _he thinks, and smiles in spite of himself,"_I believed in you for a long time. My whole life, in fact." _

It is a bit silly, a fully grown adult talking to a stuffed animal like a ten year old, but it's all he has left, really. It did work all those years ago.

_"I need you to give me a sign. Like, right now. I know I'm crazy for wanting it to snow in spring, but tell me I'm not crazy for still believing, in all of you; tell me you're still here watching over me." _

He waits, long and still. No Guardians appear, no magic sand, no fluttering of a hummingbird's wings, no nothing. No Jack.

* * *

_A/N: So I don't really know how the adults and Guardians thing is supposed to work - so as I understand it, adults are no longer able to see Guardians even if they still believe in them, their light goes out on the globe - let's pretend it makes sense. Also, I don't own Rise of the Guardians or its characters. Thank you for reading!_


	2. Promises (Part Two)

**WHEN YOU WISH UPON A STAR**

Promises (Part Two)

_Three Months Later_

If Jamie Bennett has to pick the thing he hates the most about Australia, it's definitely the weather. Summer is sweltering hot without salvation; spring is wet while autumn is dry. And of course, the winters are freezing, yet it's not cold enough to snow. Even living near the sea, where the wind is wild, it never snows.

Maybe if his family didn't call every holiday season with recounts of Burgess' amazing displays of snow, he wouldn't feel so miserable about the lack thereof in Australia. But exactly on cue, the first day of December, Jamie receives a phone call from his mother.

"Jamie, sweetie, honestly, you have to be here to see it—the local kids have a snow day on the _first day _of the season, isn't that convenient?" she asks thoughtfully.

Yeah, only Jack Frost would do something like that. Jamie can't resist letting out an easy laugh, shaking his head and glancing out the window to see the sun glaring ruthlessly down on the beach.

"Lucky them. It's forty degrees here and only the beginning of December."

"Wow. Well, what I wouldn't give to be there in Australia. You know how I hate winter."

"I wish I was back home though."

"And have Jack Frost nipping at your nose? If you knew how cold it is here, you wouldn't say that, dear."

Yes. Yes, he would.

His mother laughs softly.

"I'm sorry, dear. I know you love snow and winter and white Christmases. It's a shame you never come up here to visit us. We all miss you, dear, especially Sophie," she says affectionately.

"I'm working all year round – if I get my boss to give me more than a week off, I promise I'll see you both soon."

"Alright. Take care, Jamie."

* * *

His parents have all good intentions, keeping him up with everything in Burgess, yet the same empty feeling returns to him when they mention how often snow falls back home.

If Jack could snow in his hometown, why couldn't it snow in his current one too?

He's always afraid that somehow, Jack had forgotten about him. It was certainly possible – millions of children around the world living in countries with constant snowfall, he works without a vacation and harder than Jamie himself does – he knows how hard it is.

And besides, Jamie's an adult, he gets it. Adults are no longer able to see Guardians, and Guardians put their light out – they're no longer considered believers anymore. But the light in him didn't go out, it never did. He still believes in those five, because they kept him strong. Especially Jack.

Saving a world together isn't easy to forget. Their promise to protect each other isn't something he'll ever forget. Jack is someone he'll never forget.

Doesn't he hold a special place in Jack's heart, as Jack does in his?

* * *

That night, sleep doesn't come easy.

He has a dream –he's ten years old again, and he and Jack are lying down together in the snow, making angels with their bodies.

"Hey, Jack?" a ten year old Jamie asks. Jack turns his head to look at him.

"Yeah, Jamie?"

"You promise you'll always look after me, right, Jack? You'll always protect me."

Jack smiles and nods, "always."

Then his dream is engulfed in a nightmare. It feeds on his fear of being alone, twisting something so serene and making it terrible.

He sits up in bed, startled, and slips out of the room, the memories of his childhood playing cinematically in his mind – it's endless. Soon, Clara sits up in bed, half awake when she realizes Jamie isn't lying next her.

He's downstairs, standing on the front porch. He needs some fresh air to relieve him of his painful thoughts. He puts a hand to his forehead.

_"You're an adult now, Jamie. You've grown up," _he tells himself, _"don't dwell in the past." _

Sighing he prepares to go inside for a rough night's sleep, when something catches his eye. It's twinkling in the sky. Toothiana? No, it's just a shooting star. But all the better to wish on.

"This Christmas, I wish to have promises made to me kept. I wish for happiness for my family forever and always, here and in Burgess. Snow…I wish for snow this holiday season. Make it a white Christmas, Jack. If you can."

He holds his hands clasped, silently hoping for a sign, but nothing comes.

"Come on, Jack…"

* * *

The weeks leading up to Christmas are always busy in the Burgess household. Well, normally, just for Jamie, running around granting each and every one of his family's last wishes.

Back in Burgess, Christmas season was the most important time of year. Everyone gave, and had something given back – it was a time for giving, not just receiving. In Australia, where December manages to reach forty degrees, his family simply does not have the energy to deal with his holiday hyperactivity.

"Clara, what kind of cookies do you think we should leave for Santa?"

"Um, Christmas is still weeks away, dear."

"I know but I think we should be prepared for it, don't you?"

"Well, if you say so, Jamie."

* * *

"Mike, what do you want for Christmas?"

"Uh, I hadn't really thought about that yet, Dad."

"How about that remote-control robot we saw at the store last week?"

"I guess that's kind of cool…"

"Alright! Red or blue?"

"Uh, I don't really know—"

"We'll get them both! How does that sound?"

"Uh, it's still a while before Christmas, Dad."

"I know, but don't you think we should be prepared?"

"I guess so…"

* * *

"Alice, do you want to help me set up the Christmas tree?"

"Not really, Dad."

"Well, do you want to help me hang up the stockings?"

"No."

"So, do you want to help me hang the light son our front porch."

"No, I don't want to Dad. Besides, Christmas is ages away! Why do we have to do this now?"

"Does nobody in this family understand the importance of Christmas preparation?"

"You're so lame, Dad!"

* * *

He's found the only bad thing about being a 'holiday enthusiast', as his parents call him, is that nobody else seems to share his spirit at the same level. Especially since _they_ haven't met St. Nick, it's understandable that his expectations of Christmas are heightened to a point that no other can match.

He's noticed that not even the children can get into the spirit as much as he can – frankly, it disappoints Jamie a little bit. The cores of believers, the ones guardians look after, think that the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy are not worth believing in – 'they're just to fuel imagination. They're for little kids.'

He had been through it with Alice in middle school, when she was still a believer; all he wants is for Mike to keep the faith.

So in the coming weeks, Jamie is sure to keep Mike in the Christmas spirit. Whenever there are carolers outsider, wherever there's a holiday lights show, however many baubles they have to buy for their tree, Jamie's spirit never dies down, and he does his best to invigorate Mike with it too.

It works, to an extent. It certainly puts a smile on his face, but again, it's one of those halfhearted, reluctant smiles he puts on to make his old man happy – he's a good kid, but that's not what Jamie needs at this time.

* * *

A week before the big day, Jamie takes a disinclined Mike to buy the finishing touch of their tree, the star on top.

"What do you think of this one?"

"Yeah, it's okay."

"Actually, I like this one better," Jamie ponders over it, but turns to his son with two stars, one silver, one gold, "I'll let you decide." Mike shrugs indifferently.

"Dad, I don't really mind, they're both nice. You can pick."

"Well, I kind of like the silver one. It's bigger. Big enough to wear as a hat," Jamie snickers, only in an effort to make his son smile, "see?" He balances the star on his head and presents it Mike.

It draws a kind of embarrassed smile, but it's genuine.

"You're so lame, Dad." He doesn't say it with the same aversion as Alice, it's more affectionate. Suddenly his eyes go wide, and his expression falters. Jamie follows his gaze to see that somebody is standing behind them.

"Well, isn't this a surprise?"

It's Mike's headmistress – she's a stern lady who intimidates all her students, as well as their parents.

"Good evening, Miss." Mike says, and tugs on his father's coat from behind.

"Ah, Mike Bennett. And this must be your father, Mr. Bennett." She says, pushing her glasses up her nose. Jamie sticks out his hand.

"We haven't met, call me Jamie."

She surveys him up and down, shaking his hand with the tips of his fingers. She doesn't offer up a name, she doesn't question what they're up to, she simply peers at father and son over her tortoise-shell frames.

"So, are you here to do some last minute Christmas shopping?" Jamie offers tentatively. She just nods and gives them both a condescending sort of stare.

"Yes. I'm here with my husband, actually. He's unusually enthusiastic about Christmas. It's a little bizarre, but what can I do, really?"

Jamie laughs, awkwardly, to break the silence that follows – it's not like Mike is helping to move the conversation along.

"Well, it's great that he's enthusiastic. Who doesn't love the holiday season?" Jamie asks, grinning.

"I'm not particularly fond of it, to be honest. Everything's overly cheery and merry, and all I see around is reindeer and elves and Santa Claus. I certainly didn't celebrate it as a child, nor did I celebrate any of the ridiculous myths kids are encouraged to believe these days. Ridiculous."

Something inside him bubbles up in irritation. Jamie raises an eyebrow.

"Ridiculous?"

"Indeed. The mere idea of Santa –a fat man squeezing his way down children's chimneys in the middle of the night."

Jamie keeps his head leveled – for Mike's sake only – but he's certain that North wouldn't appreciate his guardianship being whittled down to such words. And neither does Jamie.

"Well, Miss, I disagree. He's a child's wonder. Surely someone so kind and giving cannot be ridiculous."

"Any child who believes in that legend, or any legend, is foolish, or had a foolish upbringing. He is just that, a legend." The headmistress looks Jamie up and down, her stare judgmental, "do you disagree with that as well?"

He hears Mike mutter softly beside him, "enough, Dad." But Jamie ignores him.

"If I did?"

He's met with a snort of disbelieving laughter from the headmistress, uncharacteristically loud and brash.

"You, a grown man, believes in such a tale, told to help little children sleep soundly at night?" she smirks, "I don't suppose you believe in the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny, and Jack Frost too now, do you?"

She means it as a joke, but has no idea how true her words ring. She notices this after Jamie doesn't answer; even she doesn't expect this.

"You can't be serious, Mr. Bennett."

Jamie takes a step towards her, but Mike grabs his arm and tugs him back.

"That's enough, Dad," he mutters under his breath, "stop right now. Before you make things worse."

So he controls the storm of words threatening to break loose and chains it down - for now.

But one look at his son after they walk away and Jamie knows that it was the wrong thing to do. So much for Christmas spirit.

* * *

Their drive home is mostly wordless. Mike throws a sideways glance at his father every now and then, but turns his head away when he looks back.

It's not until they get into the house that Jamie dares say anything. Jamie stands as he does every night, leaning against the frame of Mike's bedroom door.

"I'm sorry, Mike."

"Yeah."

"I didn't mean for it to happen, okay?"

"Of course not. Your precious guardians can't be touched by other mortal forces. Because you vowed to protect them, like they vowed to protect you, right?"

Mike's words sting with truth.

"I don't break my promises, Mike."

His son moans in frustration.

"I know you didn't mean anything bad, okay? I know that! But would it hurt to just hold off all this crazy magic stuff?"

"Crazy magic stuff? You think I would lie about something like that?"

Mike exhales sharply and rubs his bleary eyes.

"Dad, you're an adult. You're not supposed to believe in this stuff. It's supposed to all be kids play. All myths and legends."

"It was my entire childhood, it still is. I can't give that kind of thing up so easy, Mike."

"I know, Dad! I know!" Mike's sudden raise in temper startles Jamie, "it's just that sometimes I feel like you put this whole Santa and snow and fairy tales thing in front of everything else. It's like nothing else in the world matters. It's just you, and your precious guardians!"

"Hey, they're your guardians too, Mike."

"Dad, you don't get it!"

There's a crack in Mike's voice. He swallows, and it comes back scratchy and rough and filled with held tears.

"I don't _need_ Santa, or the Tooth Fairy, or the Sandman, or the Easter Bunny, or Jack Frost! I already have _you! _You're my guardian! Isn't that enough?"

_"We'll always be here, Jamie," Jack points at his heart and smiles, "which kind of makes you a guardian too." _

He meets with Mike's softened glare and he knows there's truth in his son's words, because his guardian told him so, all those years ago. Jamie goes over to his son, and puts both hands on his shoulders.

"I love you, Mike. I love you, and your sister, and your mother more than anything in this world. You are the most important people in my life, and you will always come first. I promise you."

Mike averts his gaze for a few lingering moments, then make eye contact.

"You promise?"

"I never break a promise," he says gently with a smile, pats his son on the back and is halfway out the door when he hears –

"Hey, Dad." Mike asks. Jamie turns his head to look at him.

"Yeah, Mike?"

"You promise you'll always look after me, right, Dad? You'll always protect me."

Jamie closes his eyes at the familiar words that came to him in a dream.

_"You'll always look after me, right, Jack? You'll always protect me?" _

"Always."

* * *

_A/N: Thanks so much for all the favourites/follows/reviews so far - they make me very happy. So, two parts down, one to go. Thanks for reading!_


	3. Let It Snow (Part Three)

**WHEN YOU WISH UPON A STAR**

Let It Snow (Part Three)

Time flies by and soon the big day arrives in Australia. It's Christmas Eve and every year as a tradition, Jamie takes his children to see the huge holiday toy display at the mall. The kids rather reluctantly get into the car with him.

"Dad, don't you think we're too old for this now?" Alice grumbles as they park the car. Jamie shakes his head with a helpless chuckle.

"Alice, my dear, you are never too old for Christmas," he tells her jubilantly.

The Christmas Toy display is always the center of attention at the local shopping mall. Christmas carols blast from the speakers, stacks of presents of all shapes and sizes as high as the ceiling, as well as featuring the biggest Christmas trees Jamie has ever seen in his thirty-six years. Year after year, the father of the family is always the most enthusiastic to go.

"Does one of you want to say hello to Santa?" Clara suggests. Alice raises her eyebrows disdainfully at 'Santa's Sleigh', children lining up to sit on his lap.

"No way, Mum. I'm not sitting on his lap. It's probably some old, bald creep scrounging for money."

Jamie shakes his head, disappointed.

"Alice, you shouldn't judge based on appearances. Besides, all those kids believe in him. They believe in his magic, and what he stands for, as you should." Jamie says.

Alice just shrugs and wanders off with her mother, leaving Mike with his father. Jamie looks at him hopefully.

"Do _you_ want to say hello to Santa?"

Again, Mike has always been the more enthralled one. He's the more wondrous, the more faithful, and the more open-minded. Mike mulls it over.

"You still believe in Santa…right?" Jamie adds.

Mike shrugs eventually, "I guess so, but…"

It's enough. Jamie laughs heartily and claps his son on the back, only to find that Santa's Sleigh is empty. A nearby sign reads that he'll be back in ten minutes – changing actors no doubt.

"He's probably going to come out soon, so we should just wait here." Jamie murmurs softly, but Mike tugs his father back.

"Dad, it's okay, we don't have to see him…"

"Yes, we do."

Maybe his actions are too forward, but this is what it takes to fuel the little flicker of belief his son still has. A little irritated, he waits at the sleigh for five, ten, fifteen minutes, and Santa doesn't arrive. Mike has already meandered over to a nearby console display, leaving Jamie alone listening to the carols bursting from the speakers – uncomfortably merry; snow glistening in the lane, snow falling with friends calling and letting it snow, snow, snow.

It leaves him frustrated, wondering why every carol has to be about snow.

If he couldn't be any more disheartened, 'chestnuts roasting on an open fire' sends a rush of nostalgia. Ah, yes, 'The Christmas Song' had always been his favorite carol back in Burgess, but now he couldn't bear to hear it.

_"…Jack Frost nipping at your nose…"_

He closes his eyes in defeat and lets it all come back to him. To be honest, he's tried to avoid thinking about Jack and the Guardians – all it does is bring around false hopes about wishes that might not come true.

He can only imagine how busy Jack and North must be at Christmas time. North would be up at the Pole, wrapping presents and painting toys for kids – he'd guffaw in marvel of the huge Christmas display, smile when he'd see the children, their eyes full of life and light in wonder of his holiday magic. And up in Burgess, Jack would be making trouble as usual. He'd snowball the naughty, and help out the nice. He'd send people on little sled rides across town, he'd freeze up the lakes and ponds to skate on. He'd make kids happy with snow days – Jamie remembers how great the surprise was on winter mornings to be snowed in.

Those memories were the best of his life. Jamie smiles in spite of how he's touched by them.

Thankfully, Santa has returned to the sleigh before he gets too sentimental. He makes a move to call Mike over, but he notices something before he does.

This Santa is not smiling at all. He's wearing the trademark red fluffy suit and hat of course, but also a scowl – his face is going to scare children, not make them happy. As he prepares for his entrance, Jamie watches as Santa is approached by two little girls.

"Excuse me, Santa?" one asks.

He gives them an irritated stare, and sharply replies, "What?"

"Did you build the Christmas display this year?" asks the other. Santa exhales sharply and turns to face the two children, not amused.

"No, little girl. I didn't build a hundred meter toy palace. Merry Christmas." He cuts off their stutters rudely, and Jamie is in his right mind when he goes right up to Santa, utterly disgraced. The man stares Jamie up and down.

"Can I help you?"

Jamie crosses his arms, disbelieving, "that was incredibly rude. Those two girls wanted to talk to Santa, not some rude, manner-less loser."

The man raises his eyebrows and stands up straighter.

"What'd you call me?"

"Not much of a guardian. You should be nicer. To everybody."

Santa doesn't break his glare; instead he steps towards Jamie threateningly as if he wants to start a brawl right in the center of Santa's Wonderland.

"You got a problem, mate? Talk to security. But some kids want to see Santa. Now, move." Santa steps past him, but Jamie keeps talking.

"You're not Santa, but you're supposed to be. You're meant to be open and kind and you're supposed to care about the children most of all. You have to care; it has to be real."

Santa just casts him a glance back and laughs pitifully.

"You're out of your mind, old man." He says, putting on his beard and striding towards the sleigh, but Jamie puts a hand on his chest to stop him. He feels himself getting increasingly angrier, and people are starting to notice; they begin to whisper.

"No, you can't go to all those children, excited to see the magical man who brings them presents and makes their dreams come true, and not care. They believe in you! You're their Guardian! You love those children! You care about them! You protect them!"

Santa gives him a shove in the chest and Jamie tumbles back.

"You're a crazy old man! There's no such thing as Santa – he's not real!"

Something inside of Jamie snaps.

"No!" Jamie yells, and retaliates, pushing him back behind the sleigh out of sight.

But a little too hard.

He pushes him, unintentionally, into the huge Christmas tree placed behind Santa's Sleigh, and it topples over – right into the tree next to it.

It's a chain reaction, like a set of dominoes falling once they've been placed toe to toe next to each other. The crashing of trees, then the shattering of thousands of glass ornaments and baubles to the floor. Screams echo from parents, desperately going to shield their children from the breaking glass.

And Jamie stands helpless, watching the chaos unfold.

"Mummy, did that man just kill Santa?"

"He's not moving."

Whispers begin to gather around him. Jamie feels a cold sweat break as every pair of eyes in the area train on him – hatefully, the man who pushed over Santa, the one who ruined Santa's Wonderland for them.

"I can explain," Jamie takes a deep breath, "this man isn't Santa." He ignores the gasps of children and the disgusted glares he gets from the mothers.

"But Santa's real. He's huge, and Russian, and he lives up at the North Pole! And he loves you children more than anything in the world. He'll protect you, because he's a guardian. He's _your_ guardian!"

He's just met with disbelieving stares and wet children's eyes with tears about to spill. As security guards run through the broken ornaments scattered about the floor, they check Santa for damage first, then turn to Jamie and haul him away. But not before Jamie catches the look on his son's face - it's as broken as the promise he made to him. He'd failed as a guardian, and as a father.

* * *

Held at the mall security office for an hour, being questioned then being finally bailed out by an incredibly embarrassed Clara, was not how he planned on spending Christmas Eve.

"Why would you do that, Dad? That was totally embarrassing, and I think you killed Santa!" Alice exclaims once they get into the car.

"It wasn't a serious injury," Jamie protests, but Alice cuts him off.

"I knew going back there was a bad thing. If you want to go next year, count me out."

She then forcefully slips her headphones on and refuses to listen to another word. Jamie pleadingly looks to Clara, who's driving, but she just lingers her gaze for half a second and looks away, shaking her head wordlessly. He looks slowly back at his son in the back seat. They share a look, and then Mike just turns away as well.

Well done, Jamie Bennett, you ruined Christmas.

* * *

Once they arrive back at home, everyone's decided they've had enough drama for one day – all except Mike. Father and son stand stock still in the hallway. Jamie takes a deep breath.

"Mike, I don't even know what to say…"

"Then don't say anything."

"I'm so, so sorry. I wanted to make Christmas special for everyone, and I wanted for you to—"

"—believe in Santa Claus? Really, Dad? Because I'm thirteen years old. I listened to your crazy guardian stories that night, and I forgave you after what happened at the mall, but I didn't think you would take it this far. You broke your promise." Mike returns, frustrated and angry, his head down.

"And you said you wouldn't break your promise," Jamie hears his mutter. He reaches out to his son's shoulder, but he shrugs him off.

"Mike, you don't know how sorry I am," he starts helplessly.

"Then, stop it! Stop with all this Santa Claus and Easter Bunny stuff! There is no such thing as the Sandman, or the Tooth Fairy, or Jack Frost! Just grow up, Dad!" Mike turns on his heel and slams the door behind him.

And like that, what little flicker of light Mike had is snuffed out. He's no longer a believer.

Jamie feels tightness in the back of his throat and little tears beginning to pool in his eyes.

He storms outside to the front porch and looks up at the sky for another star to wish on, but there is none. He lets the angry tears fall reluctantly down his face, glaring up at the moon.

Part of him wishes that out of nowhere, the person he most needs to see will appear, assure him everything will be okay, make a big joke, tell him they're going to have some fun. But nobody comes.

"Jack, I know I've grown up, okay? I know that you've got a job looking after kids, not adults, I know that. But you made a promise to me. And you broke it!"

He knows that nobody is listening. He hangs his head.

"You told me you'd protect me."

He looks out to the empty streets and envisions them snow laden, like they would be back in Burgess.

"I need you to show me something, Jack. You need to show me you're still my Guardian."

And as expected, the summer night is still warm, there's no magic snow, or message written on the window, Jamie closes his eyes, helpless.

So, he really has been forgotten; after all these years, eighteen years and counting. How he wishes Jack Frost would come nipping at his nose.

* * *

Jamie wakes up on Christmas morning, alone in bed. Who could blame Clara, he'd made a fool of himself and ruined Christmas for his whole family – and traumatized a lot of little children's beliefs.

He rubs his eyes, moaning, pulls on a jacket and slippers to go to breakfast, when he realizes – he's put on a jacket and slippers.

It's summer, climbing to almost thirty degrees every morning, as early as nine o'clock. Yet, he doesn't feel hot, nor is it overbearing to put on a fleece jacket in the middle of drought season.

In fact, it's cold. Really, really cold.

Startled, he runs to the window. His heart soars.

It's snowing.

It's really snowing.

Huge, beautiful white snowflakes fall from the sky and they cover his front lawn, and the streets and roads as far as he can see. The entire town is laden in a fine white sheet. In the front, he can see Mike, Alice and Clara having a snowball fight. His daughter looks up to see him leaning out the window, an uncontrollable smile spreads across her face.

"Dad, it's snowing! In the middle of summer!" Alice exclaims, tossing a snowball up at the window. Jamie laughs merrily as he dodges the attack.

"Isn't it incredible? And you said you didn't want to see the snow!"

"Come down here, Jamie, it's the most amazing thing I've ever seen!" Clara shouts in marvel. Just the sight of such wonder on his wife's face puts a smile on his. Mike hasn't said a word, but one long, content look they share and Jamie knows he believes again.

It's then that he notices his entire bedroom window is frosted over. And written there is a message for him

_Jamie, I'll always protect you. _

The greatest Christmas gift he could ever receive. Although he knows he can't see Jack, he can feel it. He's here.

"Jack Frost?"

And snow begins to fall out of nothingness, just like the first time it did all those years ago. Suddenly Jamie is ten years old again, his eyes filled with wonder, heart filled with happiness.

"Merry Christmas, Jack."

He's enveloped in sudden warmth from a source he cannot see. It almost attacks him from behind, yet it is not an offensive action, it simply makes him smile and wish he could close his eyes and fall back into his open arms.

And he wonders how the embrace of a winter spirit could be so warm.

* * *

_A/N: So part three of three. Thank you so much for reading, if you liked it - please review/favorite, and thanks to everyone who followed it from the start! _


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